For as long as I can remember, my mother has been in near-constant motion. As a child, we rarely left the house for an intended destination without making multiple "quick" stops to cross something off the list before we arrived. She was (and remains) a prolific multi-tasker - accomplishing twice as many things that seem possible in less than half the time.
But when she is with my daughter, her full throttle, fast-paced operating speed comes to a screeching halt. Time seems to stop. She listens intently to each of the babe's elaborate stories and every silly song without interruption. Instead of rushing from one activity to the next, they are content spending hours at home playing make-believe, fashioning magic wands from wooden sticks and putting various friends of the imaginary and stuffed varieties to bed.
On a recent visit, I was struck by the disparity between the pace of their shared world and my own day-to-day rhythms. I found myself wistful for that sweet, gentle expanse. Because while I do spend a great deal of time playing with my daughter, our regular schedule of activities keeps us moving at a brisk clip most of the time.
As the year winds to a close, I am increasingly aware of how quickly time is passing, and how short a window remains to sing silly songs, animate bears and dolls, and transform household goods into imaginary worlds. In the year ahead, I am aiming to live a life characterized by less rushing and more living.
Can you stop rushing through your days? How much "more" life might you discover?